


The Search

by Psychopersonified



Series: Kidnapped!Q [5]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Kidnapping, M/M, Relationship Conversation, Search and Rescue, Suspense, irreverent humour, technology banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25180972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychopersonified/pseuds/Psychopersonified
Summary: Next in the Kidnapped!Q series.Bond and the minions figure out how to track Q. Q meets the sponsor of his involuntary trip.---::ID 4986007: 007’s flat. Found inside of electrical circuit breaker panel box, black velvet case wrapped in brown paper....::ID 4986007: Rubbish hiding place btw.---
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: Kidnapped!Q [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782712
Comments: 25
Kudos: 132





	The Search

**Author's Note:**

> I realise that there is plenty of technical exposition in this one. Tried to give the minions some 'screen time' so to speak. So i've tried to spread some humour throughout.

**SIS HQ - London**

They track the helicopter to London Oxford International Airport hours later. Abandoned on the helipad. Police confirmed 007’s bullet did hit someone inside. Blood splatter and drip patterns were found on the seat and window behind the pilot. Forensics will have to test the blood to find out who it belonged to.

A search of the airport was ongoing, but it is likely that Q would have to been moved by now. Five business jets took off from the airport within the timeframe of the abduction and discovery of the helicopter. Bond is positive that Q was on one of them.

Then there is more worrying news, 008 has not reported in and could not be contacted.

And the shock of the day’s events was far from over. M and 007 have a blazing row in the conference room off to the side of Ops Room - one that would go down in the annals of MI6 history. 007 might be a recalcitrant rebel, but his hallmark had always been charming disobedience. He has never displayed blatant insubordination until that moment. Not even when Mansfield tried to have him brought in by force from Bolivia.

The minimal soundproofing could not fully suppress their raised voices, and the shouting match could still be heard out in the main Ops area. As unprofessional as it was, both men were stressed to breaking point, neither could wait until the privacy of M’s office to rip into each other.

M demands to know why 007 still had a (more or less) full clip in his weapon when he had both the chance and clearance to unload on the pilot. 007 argues that it was too risky. And it all comes spilling out. M throws it back in his face - since when did 007 weigh the risks? This relationship with Q is clouding his judgement; his ability to see the bigger picture.

Then there was the not so little issue about the cyanide pill, Bond hadn’t known until forensics reported the tooth and pill was found among the discarded personal effects in the garage. Intellectually he understands - but in that moment compounded by M’s seeming eagerness to use lethal force and ‘all costs necessary’ suggests to him that MI6’s protocol in such a situation was to either ensure the return _or_ neutralisation of the quartermaster - whichever was more convenient; failing which the last resort was to abandon the quartermaster to take his own life.

It makes his blood boil and he rails against it - lecturing M that owe it to Q to protect him. After all he's done for SIS and her sister agencies. Least they could do is not feed him to the wolves at the first sign of inconvenience.

The argument is sliding into dangerous territory. M recalls Dr Epstein’s counsel about the pair, particularly what Bond’s reaction might be should the quartermaster come under threat. One of the worst things he could do is to alienate the agent by appearing to devalue Q’s life - even if national security was at stake. They risk the agent going rogue and taking matters into his own hands.

The pause in exchange gives both men a chance to collect themselves and reassess the situation.

At length Bond says, “Give him more credit than that. He’s far more resilient and resourceful than anyone expects.”

“I don’t doubt it. However, in the wrong hands he is a national security threat. Do you think the Foreign Secretary or the PM is just going to standby and wring their hands? We don’t really know the full potential of Shadow AI. As effective as it is, even the NCSC is worried about accountability and who ultimately controls it.”

The mention of the National Cyber Security Council raises Bond’s hackles, “What do you mean? Wasn’t it only two weeks ago that they were offering him a senior position. What’s changed?”

“Ever since the first attempt, someone’s been whispering in the ear of the powers that be that this is all too convenient. That his kidnapping might have been planned to allow him to disappear,” Mallory shares.

Bond is stunned, “Are they implying that Q arranged his own kidnapping?”

“More than implying, it’s been openly suggested. How else did the assailants know his schedule, how did they manage to surprise two trained and armed bodyguards. It’s being spun as either MI6 is incompetent or it was orchestrated.”

Bond concedes he sees the corner Mallory has been backed into, “This is preposterous! I can think of ten _much_ more effective ways of disappearing that would cause far less of a fuss.”

Mallory agrees, “That’s what I said to the committee. But it seems fear has gotten the better of them. NCSC was happy enough when the Shadow Network was under our collective control but losing Q has them spooked. They’re the ones pushing this theory and strongly suggesting I consider Q a threat. Now considering this is a Cybersecurity issue, GCHQ and the Foreign Secretary are inclined to believe them.” 

“Doesn’t this strike you as odd?”

M is silent for a while, then reluctantly he says, “Turner was in the meeting. He came with the Director General.”

“Alistair Turner?”

M nods. For M to bring this up, means he’s suspecting something is amiss as well.

 _Shit._.. Bond prowls the room like a caged lion, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Bond comes to an abrupt stop, and does an about turn almost military style, “We are being played. Ever since he surfaced, he’s been systematically trying to isolate Q from everyone he trusts. And now, he’s applying the same tactic to isolate us from him. To make us doubt Q by discrediting him. With enough pressure, he can cut off any chance of rescue.”

“He convinced you to drop Mark out of the trip to Brussels so he could be alone with him. When that didn’t work, he convinced the Technical Director to offer him a position so he could bring Q over where he had more influence. He tried to guilt us into thinking it was selfish to keep Q at MI6, to hand him over willingly. So when none of it worked—“

“That’s stretching it. Evidence you yourself collected suggests a more likely connection with Sciarra or $PECTRE. Turner might just be a spineless coward covering his own interests since he pushed so hard for NCSC to adopt the Shadow Network protocols. Your fixation on him could have us chasing the wrong lead,” Mallory is cautious not to jump to conclusions.

 ** _*Knock. Knock*_** Moneypenny sticks her head into the conference room.

“Sir, 007, you’ll want to see this.” Eve’s interruption is a welcome diffuser and cuts the tension in the room. They follow her out to the main Ops Room. “Kim is on CNBC talking about $PECTRE.”

—-

**_All hands on deck …. brainstorming_ **

**Operations Room**

The interview is a vanity marketing piece, letting Kim showcase $PECTRE and explain to the public what sets it apart:

“…Blockchain technology is undoubtedly the way forward, but the way it has been implemented, we believe needs improvement. The increasing complexity of these mathematical equations makes each subsequent block harder to mine, incentivising individual nodes to pool resources… or processing power into a ‘mining pool’ to increase their chances of mining the next block and there’s claiming the reward.

These pools have grown so large that they undermine the idea of decentralisation, in some cases three or four large pools control more than 51% of the hashing power. We’ve come full circle. Now hackers only need to gain control of these large pools to be able to mount an effective attack on the entire network.

$PECTRE shifts the current paradigm from Proof-of-Work, one that requires ever increasing resources to solve increasingly complicated mathematical equations to a more efficient Proof-of-Stake model.

In our Proof-of-Stake model, no mining is required, instead we ‘mint’ coins: A random node is selected by combination of factors determined by the algorithm to verify the blockchain. Which means no need for increasingly complicated calculations. To stand a chance of being selected to verify the chain, you need to buy-into the network. The more stake you have the higher the chances of getting selected as the verifying node hence ‘Proof-of-Stake’.

At the end of the day, you have an efficient system with all the benefits of a traditional Proof-of-Work blockchain but is immune to 51% attacks….” Marcus finishes with his bold claim.

The anchor is suitably impressed, “Wow, that is absolutely fascinating. How quickly are you expecting this new paradigm to change the way blockchain is implemented in the future?…..”

—

M signals to Eve to turn down the volume.

“Coincidence?” M asks the room for their opinion. The atmosphere in the room is still tense and anxious, the overheard argument between M and 007 did not improve things.

“Considering $PECTRE’s market cap just hit 850 million USD, the original investors must have made at least fifteen times their investment in the last 2 years alone. That is a significant increase in spending money for weapons and technology that would have otherwise been out of their price range,” Tanner makes an observation.

“What would they want with Q? If $PECTRE is immune to 51% attacks, then the Shadow Network poses no threat,” Mark asks.

“No, not a threat but a tool,” Bond turns around to face the rest of the room. He looks to Mark and requests, “Pull up the market data for all the current cyptocurrencies on the exchange market.”

Mark does as told, the list ranked by market cap comes up in the main screen. Despite the meteoric growth, $PECTRE is sitting in the top 30, still far behind the major players.

Bond paces, thinking out loud, “If $PECTRE is to climb to the top 20, it will need to break a billion in market cap. These other coins…,” He points to the 12 or so less well known currencies,”…are in its way. They dilute the pool of money available. Kim is going to need to get the money from somewhere to fuel the growth of $PECTRE.”

Tanner counters, “So what you’re saying is Kim is going to use Q to attack his competitors and shake investor confidence. Won’t that destabilise the entire cryptocurrency market as a result? He runs the risk of deflating his own stocks.”

“It might, but as we saw, he’s already pre-empting the market - differentiating $PECTRE from the others. Once his warning of an imminent 51% attack comes true, he’ll suddenly be hailed for his prescience. He’s betting on public investors jumping ship to $PECTRE. It can’t be a coincidence he’s doing interviews now,” Bond’s theory makes sense.

 _Shit…_ Seems to be the general consensus of the room. 

R (Jenny) chooses that moment to enter the Ops Room quietly to relieve Nish as Ops Lead for the next shift. When she spots Bond, “Oh 007, the test results for the sample sent us came back. I’ve emailed it to you.”

“What was the substance?”

“Prednisone. An immunosuppressant and anti-inflammatory drug.”

Bond looks confused, “What are the effects?”

R takes a seat at the nearest terminal and pulls up the drug pharmacopeia, “Unless taken to treat specific conditions, the side effects can be pretty nasty. The first is obviously increased risk of infection, then there’s fatigue and weakness and then there are some psychological ones as well - anxiety, nervousness, depression, difficulty in controlling cognitive functions… Where did you find it?”

“I found it in Q’s tea. He mentioned that it tasted odd,” Bond reveals.

“What, from his tin?… In the lab?” R straightens to look at Bond, incredulous “… Are you saying someone in Q-Branch…” R can’t even finish her sentence, too awful a thought.

Bond shakes his head, stopping her from making the wrong assumptions. He starts pacing again, “Mark, was Alistair ever in the pantry when the three of you were working on the paper?

Surprised at the seemingly unconnected question, “Uh… yes? He helped us clean up after every dinner…,” then Mark recalls, “…and sometimes he made us tea!”

“Nish, cameras. Pantry.” R growls.

“Susceptible to infections you said?” Eve looks from R to Bond, “Q was ill the first attempt. They wanted him to be home on a workday morning, when there was less likelihood of neighbours being around… when he was likely to be alone.”

Bond nods in agreement, then to Mallory he says, “The other side effects, the psychological ones are just bonus. Hoping to destabilise him, to make him easier to control,” alluding to their earlier conversation.

“There!” Nish replays the section of the video feed. Using face recognition, he was able to isolate the sections of the recording to just the ones with Alistair. The clip shows him quickly tipping something into the tin and then shaking the tin after, to mix the contents evenly.

Mallory scratches his furrowed forehead with a thumb, “I’ll bring this up with the committee. Meantime, what are we doing to track Q’s location?”

“We believe his abductors boarded him on a plane at Oxford international airport. Five private jets took off within the time window of the abduction & discovery of the helicopter. Flight manifests do not show anything unusual. It could be any one of these three. We do have the flight plans that the pilots filed and if we include stopovers and alternative destinations there are 15 possible airports. Bearing in mind that Q could be transferred to another flight anywhere before the final destination.

“Alright. Do we have agents that could be on the ground for all 15?”

“We do for eleven, but we have limited presence in most of them. Unless we get Interpol cooperation.” That will add another layer of bureaucracy.

“Customs and immigration?”

“Nothing. Seeing that its a private jet, they could have smuggled him onboard.”

“Should have had him chipped,” M mutters in frustration.

“I wonder... “ R says cautiously.

“What is it?” Bond turns to her, urging her to continue. Considering their desperate position, nothing is off the table.

“It might be nothing… Number of years ago when we were developing the Smart Blood program together, Collin tested the prototype on himself to prove to Major Boothroyd that the concept was feasible.”

“The current chips are powered by piezoelectric energy harvesting; your blood pressure is enough to generate the mechanical stress the materials need to induce a current strong enough to power the all the sensors and the GPS transmitter.”

“Back then, the materials weren’t efficient enough to generate the power the chips needed. So the chips worked on Bluetooth LE, sending short range pulses like a beacon. Q’s idea was to link it to a phone or some other implantable device that could receive the beacon and transmit the data to HQ. But the Major pointed out that should an agent get caught, the phone or any personal items would be the first thing to go, and implants large enough to power the transmitter would be picked up by airport scans. So Boothroyd told Q to shelve the idea until he could come up with self-sufficient system.”

“But the chips still work? Mark is intrigued.

“I.. don’t know. I mean there is an expectation of degraded performance just like the current ones after some time; but if enough of the chips are still functioning, there still might be a weak beacon. But he doesn’t have his phone.”

“Right. Ok. This project…” Mark drums his pen on the tabletop trying to recall, ”I remember Q talking to me about it. He was looking for a workaround to the power issue…”

“API spoofing! We talked about API spoofing. So like, all major phone manufacturer operating systems include a program to make a log of Bluetooth addresses it comes into contact with. That’s how Apps like Tile and TrackeR work - those little keychain tokens can help you find your missing stuff.

Mark explains further, “When you have the App installed, it access the log through an API (Application Program Interface) and shares that with a central server. That’s how you crowdsource the location of the signal. The more people that install your App, the more coverage you have.”

“Are you saying we need to hack every phone on the planet?” Tanner jumps ahead.

Mark makes a face, “That was the problem with it. It would be so inefficient. Q’s idea was to hack the API’s to trick the OS into giving us the logs. Problem was, even if we did manage to hack Google or Apple’s servers, we din’t have the computing power to sort through the billions of logs quickly enough to make tracking ‘real time’ enough to be seriously useful. Unless the operative did not move for a days, we’d always be behind.``

“BUT... now with the Shadow AI and if we are much more deliberate about it, there just might be a chance. We have the Driver of the van right? Did he have a phone with him? We can pull bluetooth addresses of his accomplices - use that to establish a ‘scent’ trail. Have the Shadow AI follow the trail and even if Q’s custody changes hands, we can still pick it back up by extrapolating the likeliest addresses that might have come into contact with his original abductors.”

Nish pipes up excited, pointing affirmatively at Mark, “Yes! We start with the airports, assuming they stick to the approved flight plans we end up with fifteen possibilities correct? Hack the airport wifi, use it to an API spoof to ask for the bluetooth logs of every visitor within range and report back if they detected the address of his captors or better yet Q’s beacon.”

“Precisely! If his beacon is still working, the addresses that persistently logs his beacon we assume will be his captors - have the API report back the phone numbers, IMEI numbers as well as the MAC addresses. Use the IMEI to track location and have the AI search for their MAC address in the networks within the area. Boom! We have continuous tracking.”

The technical volleyball makes everyone who is not a boffin head spin. They might as well have been babbling nonsense. Agent 001 had coined it Minion Gibberish. But if Q’s carefully selected minions were all in agreement, that must count for something. Sometimes you just need to have faith.

Mallory just levels everyone with a look, “Well, get on with it!”

The minions all look to Mark, the second best hacker in MI6, who is looking rather pale.

“…Problem?” Bond asks.

“Aside from this breaking a multitude of international laws? Umm… Sir. It’s just that Q usually does the hacking…” Mark wrings his hands nervously.

That earns him a quelling look from Bond. Mark pulls himself together sheepishly, “…Never mind I said anything.” Eve comes by to put a supportive hand on his shoulder.

—

It takes the combined efforts of Mark, Jenny, NIsh and the AI to come up with a plan of attack. They end up hacking the Bluetooth APIs of the three major OS. Some reverse engineering and spoofing later, the AI masquerades as a list of common apps installed on the majority of phones. It then uses this mistaken identity to request bluetooth logs from user phones before sorting through for the one it wants.

This would normally take weeks, but fortunately they had the Driver in custody as well as his phone. Using his phone’s Bluetooth signature as a ‘scent sample’ (start point), they have the AI work like a digital hound dog to find out and track the signatures of his compatriots and widen the contact tracing net from there onwards. The freshest trail being the one that has most recently logged Q’s signature along with it. As long as there isn’t a break in contact, they should be able to follow the trail even if they hand Q off to multiple parties to muddle the trail.

Eighteen agonising hours of following the beacon hopscotch across the continent from Istanbul to Dubai then Hong Kong, they get a final stable ping from South Korea.

—————————————

**_Everything hurts....._ **

Q wakes in increments to a sore head, neck and back. His head feels impossibly heavy and any attempt to move requires enormous effort. Tries to recall where he is - home? Doesn’t smell like it. Q-Branch lounge? No, it’s too bright.

When he finally manages to crack open his eyes, the ‘room’ he’s in is oddly shaped. Wider around the centre and narrower at the top, almost tubular. The windows are like portholes. Then the entire ‘room’ dips, sending Q into a panic.

The sudden shot of adrenaline completes his waking up process and he realises he’s inside a plane. A private jet by the looks of it. He’s on a white leather couch, the area sectioned off from the front by a curtain.

The jet hits another pocket of turbulence and he grits his teeth. This is why he hates flying - the sensation of the bottom falling out from under him.

A nicely dressed lady enters the room through the curtained partition. He can’t really make out her face clearly without his glasses but her English is mildly accented.

“Sir? Excuse me, you’re awake? We’ll be serving breakfast soon... would you like to clean up first?”

Q just nods stupidly, still trying to make sense of things. Her polite manner a stark contrast to the violence of his earlier abduction. 

She leads him to the large bathroom in the back, gesturing to the pile of fresh clothes, “Sir, those are clean clothes and your glasses are on the counter.”

Once alone he catalogues his injuries. Any exposed skin is peppered with shallow cuts and abrasions which stings like a mother when he runs a wet towel over it. There is dried blood in his ear - ruptured eardrums, hopefully not too bad. A blossoming bruise on his cheek and shoulder. Aside from this and the whole body ache, he seems not to be too injured.

He spares a thought for Jamila, Coyle, Chalmers - hoping they’re not in any worse shape. But he can’t dwell on that now.

A shower is tempting but he balks at stripping as it adds to the feeling of vulnerability. So he cleans up best he can with a wet towel and quickly puts on the clean clothes he’s been provided. Tight cut dark blue trousers cut off at the ankle, button down long sleeved shirt, white jumper, white sneakers. All very hip and expensive too (which is odd), but the fashion is all a tad too tight. It fits Q just right, but he can’t imagine these being off the shelf in England.

From the care they’re showing him, at least he knows they won’t kill him… not straight away at least. If they want something from him, best play along.

His ‘hosts’ on the plane are not the same people as his abductors. They’re not friendly but not cruel either. In fact they largely ignore him for the rest of the flight. Three men, Korean he’s sure deducing from the spoken language - he catches a couple of words that 008 has taught Q-branch. He guesses the flight attendant and pilots are not in on it, just employees of the chartered flight paid enough for their discretion. 

Two hours later, they land in Incheon, South Korea and he’s taken through the Diplomatic VIP Lane to clear immigration with a fake passport. The officer is suspicious of his cut up and bruised face - but one of his minders says something to the officer; miming holding a cup to his lips and repeating the action several times. They share a laugh, at his expense - Q guesses he told the officer the injuries were the unfortunate side effects from going on a major bender the day before.

No further questions, photo, fingerprint and he’s through.

“Come! Party Boy,” one of his minders calls to him with false chumminess, even ruffling his hair as he is led away from immigration.

———

**Blofeld Biologics**

**South Korea, Incheon, Yeonsu-gu, Songdo 1(il)-dong**

Sprawling amidst the high tech industrial area of the district, the five story facade is a veritable waterfall of glass, steel support frames barely noticeable giving the building an exposed look. The building looks squat, but only because the area it covers is much wider than it is tall. Blofled Biologices is a comparatively small pharmaceutical company despite the fairly large footprint of the facility.

Q is familiar with it from the file on Kim Min Jun. The company was a small gift from his mother’s family, to keep him out of the affairs of the family’s conglomerate - not even a blip on the financial balance sheets. They largely leave him to run it as he wishes. It’s main focus is on generic drugs and supplements which they either make in small quantities (to appease regulators) or import from other countries and repackage them.

He recalls Marcus Park, 008 reporting that the rumours were that it serves as a front for Kim’s money laundering schemes. But lately, Blofled Biologics has been known to hold fairly large quantities of $PECTRE securities (shares) under the guise of ‘investment’. The company posted a substantial jump in profits last fiscal year - even though sales nor operation have significantly increased. Most of the profits came from its $PECTRE holding. As odd as it may seem, it is all perfectly legal.

He is led through the ultra modernist front entrance, inside the lobby atrium, glass and steel sculptures hang from the ceiling. A lift shuttles him up directly to the top floor divided into suite after suite of sumptuously modern offices large enough to be apartments. Up here, there is far less activity - he’d seen what appears to be ordinary workers milling about the ground floor.

At the end of the hall is a cantilevered office looking out over the industrial district. Silhouetted against the light from the windows, tall, slim and suitably dramatic is Kim Min Jun himself.

“Mr Mitchell, nice of you to join us again,” there is coldness in the genial welcome.

“Didn’t seem like there was an option,” Q quips back.

He points at Q and then makes a circular gesture around his own face, “Sorry about the crude invitation, my consultants tell me it was the only way.”

“A card in the post would have sufficed. Handwritten, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

Smile. “No matter, you’re here now. Please have a seat. Would you like a drink?”

Q looks away, the pent up anger that he’d been harbouring since he woke up bubbles to the surface and it makes him throw caution to the wind, “Kim… I’ve had a pretty shit 24hours. I’m missing a tooth, my ears are still ringing and there’s glass in my hair. Spare me the pseudo congenial hospitality and gentleman villain soliloquy. What the fuck do you want from me?”

Long pause. A henchman on Q’s left moves in as if to strike him. But Kim waves him away.

“Careful Collin. It’s customary to show more respect towards your host here. But I do appreciate your candour. Alright… if you prefer to get down to business,” Kim walks to telly and turns it on. He replays his day old interview on CNBC and his ominous warning about imminent 51% attacks against Cryptos modelled on Proof-of-Work systems.

Once the interview ends, Kim pauses the clip and says to Q, “I need you, to prove me right.”

“And how would you propose I do that?? Unless you’ve bought up the world’s supply of GPUs, I don’t see how you’re going to have enough computing power to influence the hash rate.”

*Tsk* Kim tuts at him, “Collin… please. Spare me the pseudo indignation and heroic if ultimately futile defiance. We both know what you’re capable of… Shadow Architect.”

That jars him. No one outside of Six knows that, it’s an in-joke. If it was a guess on Kim’s part, then it was a bloody good guess.

“It has a nice ring to it. Morally neutral, deliberate in its planning and lawful in implementation. Very politically woke too, who can tell between good and evil these days?” Kim continues.

Yes fine, so they have the same taste in superhero/villain monikers. What is Kim expecting, that they’re friends now?

They are interrupted by the door to the office opening and everyone turns around to look. A caucasian man enters. Q visibly recoils with shock. The other man appears just as surprised.

“What is he doing here?” The man demands from Kim.

Kim shrugs nonchalant, “You spoke so highly of him so I thought we might have him come on board to hasten the process.”

“Not like this!” the man gestures to the cuts and bruises on him. He comes to stand in front of Q, examining his injuries.

“Alistair, what the hell?!” rattled, Q can’t contain his confusion.

“Was this really necessary?!” Alistair hisses at Kim. Then to Q, “Benji, I am so sorry for this…” as he cups Q’s face gently.

Q pulls away from his touch, “Stop fucking calling me Benji. I’m not Benjamin anymore!” Q is beyond cross. He’d been traumatised by his one attempted kidnapping, one successful one and he had to watch his friend and colleagues get hurt in the process.

“Shh.. Shh.. it's alright. I know you’re stressed out by this.”

Alistair rounds on Kim angrily, “Get out. All of you get out! And send a doctor. He needs to get these cuts looked at.”

Kim holds up a hand for silence then tilts his head at one of his henchmen on the far wall. The big guy turns around to open a door he’s standing in front of. He enters and seconds later, a familiar man is unceremoniously tossed out of what must have been a private bathroom.

Agent 008, Marcus Park rolls to a stop near Q’s feet.

“Owww…” Marcus chokes out before slowly uncurling and pulling himself up to a kneeling position, bracing on a nearby sofa for support. His hand leaves bloody palm prints on the cream leather couch.

Kim makes a face and rolls his eyes, “I believe this belongs to MI6 as well?”

Big guy comes round to pull Marcus to his feet, twisting his already injured arm in the process.

“FUCK!” Marcus yells in pain but clams up immediately when a muzzle of a gun is placed under his chin.

Q’s heart is hammering in his chest. Alistair steps in quickly before it escalates further, “And who the hell is this??” he demands.

“A friend of Mr Mitchel’s and his incentive to cooperate.” Kim suggests ominously.

Alistair huffs irritated at the overblown theatrics, “Oh for goodness sake! That will not be necessary. Benji will cooperate.”

“Forgive me for not having full faith in your promises, but I’m a businessman and I like having contingencies. You have five days Mr Mitchel, or we start breaking his ribs one at a time.” Kim pauses to make sure his message sunk in. Kim leaves with his henchmen in tow.

Once they’re gone, Marcus collapses onto the sofa moaning in agony. Q wants to see to the injuries; but Alistair grabs him and bids Q to sit on an armchair and seats himself on the coffee table facing him. He takes Q’s hand gently, examining the ripped and dirty fingernails.

“Benji, I know you’re angry. And you want an explanation. But trust me when I say I never intended for you to get involved in this,” Alistair starts off earnestly.

“Kim and I, we have a business arrangement. They took me onboard as CTO for $PECTRE— yes I know, it’s a conflict of interest, but it was an opportunity for me to build something of my own outside of the service.”

Alistair drops to his knees, “Benji, I need your help. Kim can be a little impatient as you’ve seen. But if you give him what he wants, he keeps to his word. I can protect you and your friend if you listen to me. Once Kim sees what you can do, we can have him let your friend go.”

Q bites the inside of his cheeks, considering, “And what about me? What happens to _me_ after?”

Alistair seemingly disregards the question, instead getting up to use the office phone, “Send in the doctor.”

Once he’s replaced the receiver, he comes by to run his fingers through Q’s hair, “You’ll be alright Benji. I promise.” He leaves right after that.

After the door clicks shut, Marcus who’s been quietly listening rouses, “He puts on a good show. You believe what he says?”

“Not a word of it.” Q admits, looking pensively at the door.

————

Once they’ve been tended to medically, they are taken into the main factory space. Tucked away in the back, past the manufacturing lines and laboratories is a server room. The setup is unusual and appears to be for a specialised purpose. Made up of mostly GPUs, Q thinks he knows what this is.

The room also has a couple of sofa’s with some pillows and clean clothes arranged on it. It appears this will be their accommodation for the duration of their stay. Their ‘cell’ isn’t particularly high security, only one security camera and the furnishings are fairly expensive. The chair he’s sitting on is of the ‘ergonomic’ kind and the computer equipment and peripherals appear to be top of the line. This must have been Alistair’s project room - before he reached the end of his technical abilities and needed to bring someone else in.

Alistair comes by shortly to show Q around and to reveal his version of a shadow network. Its rudimentary, its deep learning algorithms still immature - but it is potentially enough to achieve what Kim wants with some modifications Q tells him reluctantly.

Chuffed to bits by the assessment, Alistair leaves them alone to work on it.

Hours pass, Marcus helps Q rewire and reconnect the GPUs, then Q reprograms bits here and there to eke out the best performance and efficiency out of the hardware they have to meet the bare minimum of what they need to keep Kim happy. A fine line, Q doesn’t want to give them too much, but it needs to buy them time to stay useful and alive.

Q continues reprogramming through the night. Marcus with nothing else to do stalks up and down the server room looking for a possible escape route. This side of the factory where they are kept is largely unoccupied. Their room essentially overlooks the central manufacturing floor with a thick partially frosted glass wall on one side and solid walls on the three inner sides.

The only opening is through a locked glass front door with a guard stationed at the end of the corridor and another set of doors past him. And from what they can see out the glass wall, they must still be up on the fourth or fifth floor.

Marcus stares morosely over the frosted portion of the wall into the main space of the factory, shut for the night. This is his first serious capture so he’s contemplative of what it means.

“Do you think R will miss me if I die?” He says suddenly.

Q pauses his typing, “Did you make up with Jenny yet?”

“Haven’t had the chance.”

“Then no. She can be brutal that way,” Q tells him truthfully.

Marcus sighs, “At least Bond will miss you.”

Q huffs, “ _Everyone_ will miss me. Especially when they forget how to reprogram the palm print readers on the Walthers.”

“No, but Bond especially,” Marcus insists, lost in his own melancholic thoughts, “No one will miss me…”

When Q doesn’t answer, he continues, “How does it work?”

“God! Marcus, you’re chatty,” Q snaps exasperated. He’s trying to figure out this bit of tricky coding.

“I’m serious. I don’t know how to make it work with Jenny.”

“I’m not Aunt Agony… talk to Eve. That’s what I do. Assuming we get out of here alive.” Q dismisses him.

Marcus looks like a kicked puppy.

 _Ugh!_ “Fine. Why did she throw the cup of bubble tea in your face?”

“I accidentally sent her a text meant for someone else…” he grimaces.

“One of your sleepover friends?” Q thinks he knows where this is headed.

“Yes… but it’s not what you think. I brushed her off to go out with Jenny! I said : ‘Hey Sugar, can’t meet up tonight. Out with someone whose tits I haven’t seen before. *wink emoji*. You understand. Cheers babes.’”

Q gives him a withering stare.

“She’s a very old friend!”

“How did you even pass the seduction unit?” Q mutters, turning back to the computer.

“That’s different… What did Bond do to get you to like him?”

“Bought me a car,” Q answers absently, eyes scanning the screen for the line of code he was working on.

“What? The red Hyundai? Aren’t you the gold digger,” Marcus teases.

Q throws his hands up in annoyance, “Why do people think I somehow coerced him into buying me that car? It wasn’t the car that mattered. It was the sentiment. He _cared_. The whole time before that, I thought he was just pulling my pigtails, then all of a sudden it wasn’t.” 

“How long did it take? This ‘wooing’ process?”

“…About nine months till he got me the car. Then another three maybe before we got together?”

“A whole year??“ Marcus slumps against the window, “Fuck! that’s a long time to go without a shag.”

Q thinks in his head that’s nothing. It must have shown on his face because Marcus adds, “I meant for him!”

 _Owwwh_ … ”I’m sure he had… ways of letting off steam.”

“Honeypot missions don’t count. That’s work, and far between. Plus it’s not as enjoyable as everyone thinks. Pressure to perform takes the fun away.”

“No, I meant… gentleman's special interest literature…?”

Marcus blinks at him a few times before he gets it, then he lets slip, “… I like to cuddle.”

“Did not need to know that…” Q returns to staring at his screen resolutely, hoping this is the end of their frankly surreal conversation. But now he can’t concentrate…

 _Fuck Marcus!_ and his probing questions. Q has never thought of it until now. He had so many other things to think about and it was never a concern for him so he just assumed it was the same for Bond. But maybe that was just bias. Was Bond shagging anyone while they were ‘not dating’? Irrelevant now… _but_ was he? And if he was, who was it? Someone at Six? Like Alec making his rounds? Or someone outside?

The more he thinks about it, the more convinced he is that Bond must have been seeing someone else during that time. He can't imagine why he wouldn’t. And now he’s irrationally mad at Bond. He thinks back on the times they went out, when Bond made him feel like he was the centre of his universe and he had responded in kind even though he was unaware of it at the time. Those memories tainted with the possibility of what if—

 _Stop it!_ This is the psychological stress of the kidnapping manifesting.

“I’m not sure if I can handle it.” Marcus continues contemplative.

“Shut up Marcus! If she means that much to you, you’ll figure out a compromise!” Q snaps at him.

“So-rry…” _Great_ , now he’s projecting his groundless anger at Bond on 008. Its barely 24 hours and he’s losing his mind. Bond’s right, he’d make a shit operative.

“Shouldn’t you be planning our escape?” Q asks changing the subject.

“There’s fire escapes on both sides of the building….” Marcus points out. He can see them from where he stands, though its most likely locked since the building is not fully utilised.

“Is that your brilliant plan? To pull the fire alarm?” that’s a failing mark if Q was judging.

“Alright… How are you with abseiling?”

“Never done it.”

“There goes plan B.”

“I don’t believe this. Marcus you’re the Double-0, don’t you have a plan by now?!”

“Sorry! I was busy getting beaten up earlier.”

Then Q thinks about it, in all seriousness Marcus stands a better chance escaping without him, “Maybe you should escape without me… find a way to contact HQ.”

“And face Bond when he finds out I left you here alone?? Yeah… NO.”

—

It’s almost midnight when he decides to call it a day. He can barely see the lines of code anymore. Sleep eludes him and he tosses and turns on the sofa. He thinks about what Alistair said, there is no way they will let Marcus leave alive once this this over. As for himself, it doesn’t bear thinking, Alistair’s elusiveness chills him to the bone - Q is starting to consider that there is perhaps a worse fate than death.

He needs to seriously think about a life insurance policy - something to bargain with. This whole thing centres around $PECTRE. It’s what both Kim and Alistair desperately wants to succeed. So what if he can engineer it so that the outcome is contingent upon Marcus and him being alive?

If only he could access $PECTRE’s network - to see how it works. Alistair was careful not to allow him internet access. The CPU and GPUs he’s working on have no wireless capabilities and need to be physically hooked up to the network point _outside_ the room when they test it tomorrow when Alistair is around.

But… he does have a bluetooth mouse and keyboard.

Muffled laughter catches his attention and he peeks outside. The guard at the end of the corridor has his face softly lit up by light from a screen, and periodically he laughs at what he appears to be watching… on his phone!

Q takes the chance. There is a secondary control terminal located inside the server rack, one that actually runs the control programming, one that is less likely to be monitored. He removes the bluetooth dongle from Alistair’s coding computer and plugs it into the secondary terminal.

He cracks into the bluetooth dongle in minutes. _Please be on, please be on._

No nearby devices. _Shit_.

It must be 30ft from where he is to the door and another 30ft to the end of the corridor. Out of range.

“Marcus… Marcus! Are you awake?” Q shuffles over to Marcus who’s dozing lightly on the sofa and shakes him.

“Yes. Just resting my eyes,” he lies.

Q shoves him off the sofa, “How’s your acting skills?”

Marcus peeks at the guard and whispers, “I don’t think I’m his type if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“What? No!” Q rolls his eyes. “I might have a way of contacting Six. But I need the guard to be within range for as long as possible. You think you can do that?”

—

Marcus laughs heartily and engages in enthusiastic conversation as he watches the video on the guard’s phone through the locked glass door. It’s some peculiar Korean variety show with numerous skits and plenty of slap-stick comedy. Through some wily wheedling, 008 had somehow managed to persuade the man to come over and let him watch along.

Q works quickly behind in the server room.

—————————————

**SIS HQ - Operations Room**

Bond reports to the Ops Room for a final brief before he hops on a plane to Seoul. The team is filling him in on what they know. They’ve found 008 as well, the signal from his Smart Blood tracker resurfaced a few hours earlier and overlaps with Q’s beacon and approximate location. So there is a high chance they are together or near to each other.

South Korea isn’t a crumbling banana republic without strong institutional structures. It is a technologically advanced, innovative metropolitan republic with its own set of going concerns. It all translates into - 007 cant just run in headlong and blow shit up. It’s a country on perpetual alert for a possibility of war with its northern brother. If the National Intelligence Service (NIS) of Korea is not informed, any unattributed suspicious activity can be misconstrued as an act of aggression and trigger undue tension in the region.

To add to the complication is Kim Min Jun’s family ties - even as a minor princeling in his family’s conglomerate, the Korean NIS is unwilling to move against him unless they have irrefutable proof. The political fallout could be destabilising. At this point, Kim has yet to do anything that might require NIS intervention. Then there is the issue with CIA running operations in Korea as well. So after an hour long negotiation, M only manages to secure not so much as a cooperation, but for the NIS to look the other way while MI6 conducts her supposed rescue mission on their turf.

“How’s Jamila and the others?” Bond asks after his briefing.

R sighs, “Physically she’ll recover, there might be some permanent hearing damage. Too early to tell. But she’s still badly shaken up. Chalmers has a broken nose and a cracked rib. Coyle took a bullet to the thigh. He’s out of surgery but recovery might be slow.”

Bond is relieved to hear that they’d all made it out alive anyway. He’s about to say something more when awarning window pops up on one of the monitors telling them that the AI is flagging unusual activity inside the SIS network. Someone is repeatedly trying to gain access to confidential files in a server they have no clearance for. The attempt is using valid credentials from a SIS employee - so does not immediately trigger the Shadow Network’s defence protocols, but flags it for human review first. 

“Who is it?” R asks, suspicious. 

Mark is already pulling up the logs and searching for the credentials that was used. He clicks it and the window pops up on the main screen.

::Commander Bond J.::

::Division ID 4986007::

::Clearance Level _Double 0::

Everyone is surprised. No one more so than Bond who is standing just behind Mark. The boffin swivels around in his chair to look at him.

“007 are you trying to hack us?” Mark asks only half joking.

There is a thoughtful frown forming between the agent’s brows. There is only one other person besides IT that would know his credentials.

“Its Q. He’s trying to contact us.” - _It has to be-_ , “Is there a way we get message to him? Make sure it’s safe before proceeding, in case someone is looking over his shoulder.”

“You know, it’s against protocol to share credentials even with a partner or spouse,” he dares to tease 007. He must still be buoyant from his earlier airport hacking success and running on too much caffeine.

“Eepp!” Mark squeaks when Bond smacks the back of his chair - not too hard, but just enough get him to concentrate on more pressing matters.

Mark takes a long moment to think. Then pulls up the terminal to interface with the AI. He manually instructs the AI to shunt the traffic into its Sh_N. Now he can make changes to the remote login portal that only the person on the other side will see.

Next he overlays the ‘access denied’ error message with an enterprise IT troubleshooting screen. One of those helpful:-

:: Have you forgotten your password? Click here to recover if you are on a secure connection::

Innocuous enough and wouldn’t look out of place if anyone was looking. But someone as familiar with SIS systems as Q would know that it is out of the ordinary - the normal protocol is to verify with the user on a secondary device or lock them out.

The person clicks through to recover password and next is a popup window:-

:: Connecting to SIS Enterprise password recovery system ::

:: Please wait while we connect you to IT HelpDesk::

::IT HelpDesk_Trent M: Please verify identity::

 _-Dammit Mark and his enterprise IT. I just did! Who else knows Bond’s ID?-_ Q thinks. Fine…

::ID 4986007: Is 007 present?

::IT HelpDesk_Trent M: Yes.

Q thinks about it… oh, what the hell. Might as well, considering they might not have the chance later.

::ID 4986007: 007’s flat. Found inside of electrical circuit breaker panel box, black velvet case wrapped in brown paper. Platinum eternity diamond ring inside.

::ID 4986007: Rubbish hiding place btw.

Q watches the cursor blink for long seconds.

There is absolutely no mistaking what it means. The entire Ops Room turns to regard Bond, completely silent except the droning of the ventilation and hum of the computers - waiting for his confirmation. Bond on this exceedingly rare occasion is actually embarrassed. He hides it behind stern stoicism, but the red flush creeping up from under his collar all the way up to the tips of his ears give him away.

Bond mutters, hands in pockets and staring at his shoes, “It’s him.”

::IT HelpDesk_Trent M: Verification accepted. Status?

::ID 4986007: Green for now. 008 blue. S.Korea. Blofled Biologics - 4th maybe 5th floor facing factory atrium.

Back to business, Mark snaps his fingers to get everyones’s attention, “Quick! What else do we need to know?” Bond rattles off a short list of tactical questions.

::IT HelpDesk_Trent M: Assessment; hostiles and weapons?

::ID 4986007: Weapons affirmative - handgun confirmed. # of hostiles, unsure. Minimum 5 heavy, 1 guard duty, neutrals present.

::IT HelpDesk_Trent M: Contact channel secure or ad hoc?

::ID 4986007: Temporary, only when in range.

::IT HelpDesk_Trent M: Motive?

::ID 4986007: 51% attack on crypto. Met KMJ. A.Turner involved!! 

_Ah!_ So his suspicions were correct. They have confirmation Alistair is connected. But that makes it even more complicated.

::IT HelpDesk_Trent M: Noted.

::IT HelpDesk_Trent M: Q, your prototype S Blood beacon functional, BT proximity required. Alternative, stay with 008. Do not separate.

 _Interesting_ … it still works after all these years.

::ID 4986007: Location possibly secure for 5 days. After which, 008 disposable. Retrieval ETA?

::IT HelpDesk_Trent M: Min 24 hours to location. Plan in progress. Future contact?

::ID 4986007: Approx same time tomorrow?

::IT HelpDesk_Trent M: Acknowledged.

There’s nothing else to report and as much has he want tot hang on to this little lifeline with HQ, its too risky to keep it open an it sounds like Marcus and the guard are finishing up the show.

::ID 4986007: Logging off. GNite.

Then before he looses his nerve, he takes the opportunity while he still can because who knows how this is going to play out…

::ID 4986007: And tell 007, the answer is yes.

::IT HelpDesk_Trent M: Will do. Out.

**Author's Note:**

> The last section, the 'right' alignment sentences are Q's thoughts in case you haven't figured it out. 
> 
> A bit of a warning for the next episode, it might get a lot worse before it gets better. Alistair gets his moment in the next one... at least that's what I'm planning.
> 
> As usual, please kudos and comment if you enjoyed this!


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